


In the Moonlight

by SweetOphelia123



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Romance, Depression, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, References to Depression, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 10:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetOphelia123/pseuds/SweetOphelia123
Summary: Triss looked at him, his face was etched with concern. She knew the Commander would worry about worrying given half the chance. She sighed, unsure of how to reassure him.“Which part?” she scoffed, “The part where I blackmailed the leader of one of the most powerful countries in Thedas, or the part where I publicly exposed an assassination plot and condemned the perpetrator to death?”Cullen chuckled and gave her a wry smile.“Orlais will be talking about that for months. There’s nothing that Orlesians love more than a good scandal.”“I don’t understand how Leliana and Josephine enjoy this,” Triss admitted, her expression wan.Triss rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes for a few seconds, breathing in the woody scent of his cologne.“Cullen?” she asked, her voice pensive, “Did I — do you think I did the right thing?”After exposing the plot to kill Empress Celene at the Winter Palace, Triss Lavellan finds herself questioning whether she has been making the right choices.





	In the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a rewrite of the scene at the end of the Wicked Hearts quest because I needed a bit of fluff and these two just lend themselves well to it. (Especially Cullen) 
> 
> Just as an FYI, I do make some (very subtle) references to depression in this because that's how I played my Inquisitor at the time (mostly as a way of coping with my own experience of it tbh) 
> 
> Also, I may go back and revise it at some point as I haven't really had the time and I really want to make sure that I haven't romanticised a mental illness. (Trust me there is nothing romantic about depression)

Triss gazed at the silvery moon shining over the Winter Palace, enjoying the way the cool night air caressed her face. It had been a long night...no, that would be an understatement. It felt as though it would never end, and not in a good way. She had never felt so...awkward, so out of place in her life. Never in a million years would she, the First of Clan Lavellan, have guessed that she would have ended up in Orlais, let alone as the Empress Celene’s guest of honor.

“Maybe the Creators are having a joke,” she mused out loud.

She sighed. Her shoulders ached as though they were straining from some great invisible weight that had been dropped on her. She hated Orlais. She had spent her evening trying to schmooze Orlesian nobles who hid their true intentions behind obsequious pleasantries, knowing that they would call her a ‘knife ear heretic’ the moment her back was turned. Their masks did little to conceal their distaste of her vallasin, her heritage. 

But was it still her heritage? Triss had been so far removed from her clan, from the Dalish that she had no idea who she was anymore. Not the Herald of Andraste that was for sure. It was a empty title. One that bore the weight of expectations, of duty. Entire nations looked to her...it was...it was too much…

Triss buried her face in her hands as a familiar dark feeling of dread crept over her, coursing its way through her veins, poisoning her thoughts. How could they possibly win? How could she decide the fate of thousands of lives? It wasn’t just about Corypheus or healing rifts in the sky any more. It was about healing rifts between nations, uniting people against an upcoming catastrophe. It was about negating chaos before it began, fixing a thousand little problems before they became bigger ones. There was always something, always a noble to curry favor with, always an issue that needed to be fixed.

“If only they stayed fixed.” She mumbled as she scrunched her eyes closed, trying to stop the cycle of thoughts from spiraling into all out despair. 

She heard the sound of footsteps thudding against the tiled floor of the balcony. Triss straightened up, trying to fix her expression into a polite smile. What was it now? 

“There you are!” Cullen’s voice cut through the faint strains of music streaming out through the balcony doors. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Triss felt her shoulders relax. Of all the people to come looking for her, it had to be him. She knew he detested politics as much as she did. He’d rather be in his office in Skyhold, reading through Leliana’s reports or playing chess in the garden with Dorian. She turned to face him, his hair shining gold in the moonlight.

“Finally tearing yourself away from your admirers, I see.” 

Cullen blushed at her words. She smirked, it never ceased to amuse her how someone who commanded the respect of his troops could easily turn into a blushing Chantry boy with a simple teasing remark. 

“Ugh, yes,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, his honey-coloured eyes widening as he realised what he had just said, “Um, no! That’s not what I —”

Triss chuckled. His expression relaxed into a shy smile as he stood next to her, his arm brushing against hers. The firmness of his muscles was reassuring as they stood together for a few moments in comfortable silence.

“It may sound silly, but I was worried about you tonight,” Cullen told her, his voice soft, “I know you’re not used to these things and Orlesian politics being what they are — have you managed to enjoy yourself at all tonight?”

Triss looked at him, his face was etched with concern. She knew the Commander would worry about worrying given half the chance. She sighed, unsure of how to reassure him.

“Which part?” she scoffed, “The part where I blackmailed the leader of one of the most powerful countries in Thedas, or the part where I publicly exposed an assassination plot and condemned the perpetrator to death?”

Cullen chuckled and gave her a wry smile.

“Orlais will be talking about that for months. There’s nothing that Orlesians love more than a good scandal.”

“I don’t understand how Leliana and Josephine enjoy this,” Triss admitted, her expression wan.

Triss rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes for a few seconds, breathing in the woody scent of his cologne. 

“Cullen?” she asked, her voice pensive, “Did I — do you think I did the right thing?”

She turned to him, eyes wide as they searched his face for an answer. He frowned for a few moments, she could tell he was thinking about the best way to respond.

“I-I think you were placed in a terrible position,” he told her, taking her hand in his and giving her fingers a squeeze, “The stalemate needed to end and you did what you thought was best for Orlais.”

A smile flickered on her lips. She looked away, unable to bear the warm expression in his eyes. She bit her lip, hiding her face from him behind a curtain of chestnut hair. 

“Florianne didn’t have to die, did she?” Triss asked in a half whisper, “I should’ve done something — found a different way.”

Cullen sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. She felt the soft leather of his gloves brushing against her cheek. She gazed up at him. There was a sad expression in his eyes, lurking behind the care and the worry. It hurt her like a knife to the gut to see it. 

“Triss,” he said, “I know we ask you to do impossible things, but Florianne was a fanatic, beyond reason. To spare her would have sent the wrong message —”

“—And Celene would be seen as an easy target, I know, I know,” Triss replied, before chuckling, “What must you think of me? How can I expect to lead the Inquisition when I keep questioning my choices?”

“To be honest, I’d be more worried if these decisions didn’t weigh on your mind.”

Triss swallowed, trying her best not to protest his last statement. Especially as he was being sincere. She was exhausted and now was not the time to let her crippling self-doubt get the better of her. Silence fell between them for a few moments until the orchestra struck up a bland waltz, the melody floating through the breeze.

“Dance with me.”

Triss looked up at him, her back stiffening.

“I’m sorry?” 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping along his cheeks.

“I said — I mean, you need a distraction and I might not get another chance,” he stumbled before clearing his throat, “My Lady Lavellan, would you care to dance?”

He bowed deeply and offered her his hand. Triss’ face cracked into a smile. How did he always seem to know the right thing to say to her? A warm wave of affection washed over her as she placed her hand in his. 

“I thought you said that you didn’t dance,” she replied, placing her other hand on his shoulder.

“For you, I’ll make an exception,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Did I just hear the hearts of a thousand noblewomen breaking? Oh the scandal!”

Cullen chuckled as they began to dance, feet shifting in time to the music. For someone as tall and broad shouldered as he was, Cullen was a surprisingly good dancer. His movements were smooth and confident, always following the flow of the melody that filled the night air. She wondered where he had learnt to dance and couldn’t help but smile at the idea of a young reluctant Cullen being pestered into dancing by his older sister. She spun under his arm and he pulled her closer to him as she returned to his hold, their clasped hands resting against his chest. 

For a few minutes, it felt as though they were frozen in time. As though they were just some ordinary man and woman — not the Inquisitor and her Commander — enjoying a private moment together. She felt the weight the had been pressing down on her lessen a little as she rested her head on his shoulder. Nothing mattered. Nothing at all, except the reassuring warmth of his body against hers, swaying together with the music. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, hear the sound of him humming quietly along to the tune filling the silence between them. If only things could stay this way forever, if only they did not have to return to reality, the pressures of duty, everything would be perfect. 

The music died. The world re-materialised around them. Triss looked up at Cullen, her hazel eyes bright. He was smiling down at her, eyes filled with affection. She wanted to tell him — she wanted to show him that — but she was beyond words. His was still holding her close to him, his embrace was a comfort she didn’t know that she needed. 

Triss swallowed. Those lips — that smile — Creators, she was transfixed. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. She knew she shouldn’t do it. Not here of all places, where anyone could find them and gossip spread like wildfire. But she couldn’t stop herself. She needed him to know just what he meant to her and words were just not enough.

The kiss felt like a breath of fresh air. Despite all her misgivings about his past experiences with mages and hers with humans and the fact that the she was technically his superior, it felt right. Her heart fluttered as he kissed her back, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“Ah! Your Inquistorialness, Ruffles wanted—” Varric’s voice cut through the moment, springing them back to reality, “I’ll...leave you to it. We’re getting ready to leave, once you’ve put Curly down that is.”

They sprung apart, blushing furiously like a pair of awkward teenagers getting caught doing something they shouldn’t. Triss gave Cullen a resigned smile as the dwarf returned to the ballroom. Their emerging relationship was beginning to be the worst kept secret in Skyhold. It wasn’t that they were ashamed, after all Leliana probably already knew about it. It was more that she wanted something that no one else could scrutinise. She wasn’t ready for complete strangers to pick it apart like vultures. The more people who knew, the more likely the news would reach those outside the Inquisition. She wasn’t ready for her clan to find out that she had fallen for a shemlen of all people — she did not want to deal with the outrage that news would cause just yet. 

“Well, I guess people would find out about us at some point,” Cullen remarked, kissing her on the forehead. 

“Kissing each other on the battlements probably didn’t help either,” Triss replied with a smirk, “I suppose we wouldn’t be able to sneak around for much longer without someone noticing anyway.”

Triss’ stomach fluttered as Cullen took her hand, entwining her fingers with his own. 

“Come on,” he said as he led her towards the ballroom, “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah this one shot was more of a character study really, I guess. This particular one was weird in that I've tried writing these two before but struggled getting it to work, but this wrote itself more or less. 
> 
> Also thank you for reading. Comments and feedback are always welcome.


End file.
